


cupcakes take the cake

by ElasticElla



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Canon, Bakery, F/F, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 05:53:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8000947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElasticElla/pseuds/ElasticElla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke was the one that insisted on mundane identities, that a witch hiding among mundanes would attract too much attention.</p>
            </blockquote>





	cupcakes take the cake

Luke was the one that insisted on mundane identities, that a witch hiding among mundanes would attract too much attention. Dot said she wouldn't mind pretending to be a fortune teller, which was when Luke whipped out the _do you really want to risk Jocelyn and the baby getting found by Him_ card. 

Admittedly, Dot didn't plan on her cover bakery doing well. Mostly because, well Dot's baked goods were ugly. Sure they were delicious, but most people didn't touch the free samples, much less the buyables. 

Dot didn't really mind, most likely the mundanes would think it was a mafia storefront or something equally dramatic, and give her a wide berth. It was a lovely plan, and would allow for plenty of time to have Dot sit behind the counter, researching old magic. 

Unfortunately, Susanna Vargas existed. 

One of Luke's new police academy fellow students, one who happened to run a food review column. Luke had mentioned Greenpoint Bakery as a joke perhaps, but Susanna had come in on a sunny Sunday, notebook and purse in hand. 

Susanna tried one of everything Dot had in her display case, her first ever sale hitting the triple digits. (Paying with a credit card, she slyly confessed the newspaper reimbursed all of her food review costs.) She took careful notes as she nibbled on all the treats, went through two cups of milk and a bottle of water. Dot figured there was no way Susanna was writing a very positive review given how quickly her pen moved, and Dot supposed that was her own fault- she _could_ have hired someone to make the cupcakes at least pretty. 

Dot expected things to go back to their usual empty state, thought she might work on a new charm for Clary that would keep away demons. At no point did Susanna mention she wrote for _The New York Times_ , nor that she'd never graded higher than eight stars before and her nine star review would wreck near madness. (' _In good faith I cannot award Greenpoint Bakery ten stars, for their baked goods can only be called ugly by the kindest souls. I dearly hope at my next visit, they are able to afford an assistant for beautification. Even if they do not, this bakery blows away the competition._ ') 

The next day, Dot had a line out the door until close. 

Luke of course thought it was a right riot, teasing her about the little baker who could. Until Jocelyn said the word 'infamy', and all humor dropped from his face. 

Dot sighed, “I don't suppose you want to play artist?” 

Jocelyn's eyes lit up, and Dot backtracked, “I was kidding, with Clary-”

“I'm sure she wouldn't make too much noise in the back, besides you yourself said the safest place for Clary was by your side,” Jocelyn says as Luke slowly backs out of the house. 

Dot pinches her nose, can't think of a good reason _not_ to have them join her bakery team, and what started as a simple mundane blending activity has sprouted its own legs. So while Dot still isn't sure how delicious ugly baked goods screamed witch, Jocelyn decides she'll start working the next day. 

If yesterday was a success, the following day was a gargantuan triumph, full of happy customers commenting on the new pretty icing and buying out everything they're able to bake. Or, as Dot preferred to think of it: a headache growing in leaps and bounds, pushing into migraine territory. 

There wasn't any magic that could do her accounting (she checked all her spellbooks twice, called up her fellow warlocks), and Dot begrudgingly hired someone to play cashier as she worked on the books in the back. And then she had to hire another person, because mundanes couldn't be expected to work all day alone. And it kept adding up until Dot had a dozen employees besides Jocelyn, and Dot had officially given up on keeping the situation small.

The kids all adored Clary, called her Cupcake Clary for the little hat she wore most days, and often spent breaks talking with Jocelyn. Jocelyn's skill with a paintbrush translated well, turning even the ugliest of muffins into cute cupcake-looking treats. She picked weekly themes for all the treats: marine life, (not-so) mythical creatures, and space to name a few.

“What's it like?” Amy asks her one day, “Being married I mean?”

Dot has just come into the kitchen to grab a drink when she heard the girl, is tempted to fire her on the spot. Dot knew Jocelyn still wore a wedding ring- not the one Valentine gave her, that one long destroyed- on the off chance the Circle sent mundane spies to look for her. (The hair dyed brunette did more, though Dot couldn't deny she liked Jocelyn wearing a protection ring she'd created.)

“Like a dream,” Jocelyn said, airy and light. Dot doesn't know how she makes it sound so honest, knows better than most of the nightmares that plague her. 

Amy spots her then, grinning, “We were just talking about you.” 

And before Dot can correct her, Jocelyn is grinning wide, “Shall I tell her about how well you and Mother get along, or would you like to?” 

Dot pours herself a cup of tea, making a hasty retreat. “You always tell the story better, _darling_.” 

Jocelyn laughs, rocking Clary, and goes into surprising detail about a completely fictitious meeting involving undercooked pizza and a runaway cat. Dot is… Dot is not going to think about this right now. She's going to finish tidying up the books for the month end, and not think about how very couple like her life with Jocelyn and baby Clary has been lately. (Luke's been spending more and more time with his pack, needs to prove himself as a new member.)

Dot's lost herself in the books by the day's end, has nearly forgotten the odd conversation. It's not that it's particularly interesting or difficult work, but it takes up her mind easily. Her body's gotten used to the routine: wake up, shower, bake, bake, bake, eat lunch, books, books, books, go home with Jocelyn and Clary, eat dinner, crash, repeat. It's a much fuller routine than she's used to, is used to taking advantage of her immortality and throwing away time at random pursuits. 

So when Jocelyn comes into her office, ten minutes before normal without Clary, Dot stops what she's doing immediately, thrown off her pattern. 

“Hey lover,” Jocelyn says, coming around the desk. 

Dot knows what's happening on an instinctual level, but still doesn't believe it, not until Jocelyn's lips are pressed against hers. And even then-

“Joce, what are you doing?” she asks softly, fingers somehow already woven into her long hair. 

Jocelyn smiles, thumb brushing over her cheek. “Making a bold move, apparently the other ones were too subtle.” 

“Oh,” Dot says, and then she's kissing Jocelyn, doesn't want to waste any time on further explanations. They didn't matter- couldn't- and there's a new clock ticking in the back of Dot's mind, an explosive one labeled _mortal_.


End file.
